Evil Dead: The Series 19: "Talk To The Hand"
by OmarSnake
Summary: Ash's Hand Still on a Spree Still....


"Evil Dead: The Series" Episode 19  
  
"Talk To The Hand"  
  
By: OmarSnake  
  
Rated R for cussin' and gore  
  
  
  
TEASER  
  
FADE IN  
  
in a close-up of a Japanese-American woman. She is attractive, dressed in a white blouse and dark blue blazer, her hair perfectly combed and her eyes focused forward with laserlike precision. In one hand, she grips a microphone with the logo 'WETA Fox 15 News'.  
  
"This is Grace Takawa, standing in front of the MuscleBoundaries Fitness Center in western Detroit, where a few minutes ago, a bizarre crisis began to unfold. Initial reports indicated that a man in a police uniform had begun shooting at patrons upon entering the gym. Dozens of people have fled the gym, but others may remain ins---"  
  
The camera veers away from Takawa as gunshots ring out from inside the building. Seconds later, a man comes through the front doors, cradling an injured woman in his arms. He is a lean, good-looking black man in his early 30s, with a thinly trimmed mustache, wire-rimmed glasses and a white t-shirt stained with blood. His forearms are cut and scratched, and he is bruised but not badly wounded. He hands the woman off to paramedics and begins talking with them and working on the woman's injuries as Takawa runs up.  
  
"Sir, your name, please?" she asks.  
  
The man looks up at her, annoyed. "In a minute."  
  
"We've got it," one of the paramedics says, starting to bandage the injured woman. "Give us a second and we'll get to you."  
  
The black man stands back and looks at the cuts on his forearms. "Take your time, get her stabilized first."  
  
"Sir?" Grace Takawa repeats. "Your name?"  
  
"Reilly," the man says, wiping his brow. "Dr. Charles Reilly."  
  
"What's going on in there, son?" a grizzled SWAT team leader interrupts, stepping between the reporter and Reilly.  
  
"Hard to explain," Reilly replies, "but there's at least one person still in there."  
  
"You mean apart from the shooter?" the SWAT leader asks.  
  
"He's dead," Reilly says.  
  
The SWAT leader breathes a sigh of relief. "Come on, men," he says over his shoulder. "Let's get in there and---"  
  
Reilly grabs the SWAT leader by the arm. "Wait."  
  
"What for?" the SWAT leader asks, perplexed. "You said the shooter was down."  
  
"I said he was dead, I didn't say he was down," Reilly clarifies as we....  
  
FADE OUT.  
  
OPENING CREDITS ROLL  
  
ACT ONE  
  
TITLE CARD: "Talk To The Hand"  
  
FADE IN  
  
A few minutes earlier, as Ashley Williams plays racquetball. His opponent is a Charles Reilly, his shirt clean and white and his arms uncut.  
  
Ash is grunting with the effort of the game, while the other man seems much more relaxed.  
  
"So... rough day at work, I take it?" the man asks.  
  
"Nah," Ash replies, wiping his brow.  
  
"Then explain why you've already cracked two racquets with that metal hand of yours," Reilly replies.  
  
Ash looks down at his armor-plated hand. "They make flimsy racquets these days."  
  
"You seem more tense than usual, and that's saying a lot." Reilly says.  
  
Ash pauses, wiping his brow with his forearm. "It's.... hard to explain. I've had a rough couple of days."  
  
Reilly shrugs. "Hey, whatever it is, I'll bet I can top it."  
  
Ash arches an eyebrow. "I'd take that bet, but if I explained it all to you ya'd have me committed."  
  
"I'm a pediatrician, not a psychiatrist," Reilly replies. "But with what a big crybaby you can be when you lose a match, maybe you do fall under my jurisdiction...."  
  
Ash grimaces, then starts to speak, when they hear screaming, then gunshots, then more screaming.  
  
Reilly throws open the door and looks out into the hallway.  
  
"Help!" a woman yells as she races past. "Maniac cop!!!"  
  
Reilly and Ash exchange glances.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Ash crouches as he darts down the hallway.  
  
Reilly follows, though reluctantly. "What are you doing?" he whispers.  
  
"Checking this out," Ash whispers back.  
  
Reilly rolls his eyes. "Crazy John Wayne wannabe," he grumbles under his breath.  
  
The two men peer into the lobby, where two people are wounded.  
  
There is no sign of the shooter.  
  
Reilly scrambles out to check the injured, while Ash checks the window of the door leading into the weight room.  
  
Inside the room, Ash sees a police officer levelling his pistol at a nerdy- looking man's head, while the man whimpers for mercy.  
  
"I'll be right back," Ash says over his shoulder.  
  
Reilly looks up, startled.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Inside the weight room. People have scattered, but the unfortunate nerdy guy remains in place, sitting on a weight bench, while the police officer holds a gun to the man's brow.  
  
The officer is pale and pasty, his head tilted to one side, his eyes unfocused.  
  
"I swear, I'll pay you anything you want," the nerdy guy whimpers. "I... I work at a software company, I make good money..."  
  
"Then you'll be able to afford a nice coffin," the police officer replies with a raspy voice.  
  
The nerdy guy whimpers.  
  
"Say, can you do me a favor?" the officer asks, suddenly polite as can be.  
  
"Anything, anything."  
  
"Hold this a sec," the officer says, pushing the gun into the nerdy guy's hands.  
  
The nerdy guy looks down with utter disbelief, then turns the gun on his captor.  
  
"Youholdononemotherfuckinminutemister!" the nerdy guy cries, then pulls the trigger.  
  
Nothing happens. He pulls the trigger again, still nothing.  
  
The officer reaches to his belt and pulls out a new clip, then effortlessly takes the pistol from the nerdy guy's hands and reloads.  
  
Then, he puts the gun back up to the nerdy guy's head and grins.  
  
"Sorry about that," the officer says with a shrug.  
  
There is a slam behind them.  
  
The officer, unable to move his neck, shifts his body around so he can see what has happened.  
  
Ash stands in the doorway.  
  
"I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the geek," Ash says.  
  
The police officer grins. "Well, that was easy."  
  
The nerdy guy uses the momentary distraction to run away.  
  
The police officer levels his pistol at Ash, and fires.  
  
Ash rolls to one side, grabs a ten-pound weight from beside a nearby bench press with his mechanical hand, and flings the weight like a discuss.  
  
The officer is hit in the gut, and flails backwards, knocking over some exercise bikes.  
  
Ash grabs a metal bar and heads that direction.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Out in the lobby, Reilly improvises a bandage by tearing the legging off an injured woman's gym clothes.  
  
"You'll be alright, miss," he reassures the woman, who is in shock.  
  
Reilly looks up at the sound of clanging noises coming from the weight room.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Ash swings the metal bar as the officer ducks and swerves around fitness equipment.  
  
"If you'd just slow the fuck down," Ash growls.  
  
The officer takes a few steps back and levels his pistol.  
  
He fires as Ash throws his metal hand up in front of his face. The bullet hits the metal, and the impact of the shot causes Ash's hand to fly back and hit him in the nose.  
  
He staggers back and groans, then looks down at the palm of his mechanical hand, which is dented but holds the bullet.  
  
Ash shakes his head, impressed. "I sure got my money's worth with this glove," he says to himself.  
  
The officer lunges, tackling Ash.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Ash growls. "And what do you want with me?"  
  
"Wantcha dead, nothing personal," the officer says with a sneer.  
  
As they both sprawl across the floor, Reilly runs in and grabs hold of a dumbbell.  
  
Ash and the officer wrestle, the officer getting the upper hand. He begins to choke Ash, who swings a metal hand to hit the side of the officer's head. The impact of Ash's metal fist breaks the man's jaw but does not dissuade him.  
  
Ash punches again.  
  
Then, Reilly sneaks up from behind and swings the dumbbell, hitting the officer in the back of the head and knocking him off of Ash.  
  
Reilly helps Ash to his feet, and they look down at the body of the officer, the side of his head smashed in.  
  
"You really did a number on him," Ash says. "I owe you a beer."  
  
"You owe me a six-pack," Reilly replies, starting to step close to the body. "There's a woman out in the lobby who's injured, I better get back to her."  
  
Ash nods.  
  
"Think he's just a cop who snapped, or what?" Reilly asks.  
  
Ash narrows his eyes. "Not by a long shot. Help me with this," he says, reaching over to a weight machine next to the body.  
  
"Help you with what?" Reilly asks. "The guy's dead. His skull's bashed in."  
  
"It's a trick," Ash says.  
  
Reilly takes a few cautious steps back from the body. "Look, Ash, there's no way this guy could still be a threat, even if he IS still alive..."  
  
The officer leaps up, flailing his arms, just as Ash uses his leverage and the strength of the mechanical hand to topple the weight machine.  
  
Reilly grimaces at the sound of bone snapping and flesh tearing as the officer is crushed under the machine.  
  
Reilly looks at Ash, then back at the mangled body under the machine.  
  
"Okay, maybe that last time was a trick, but this time he's dead for ---"  
  
The officer begins groaning and growling as he tries desperately to push the heavy machine off.  
  
"What the fuck?" Reilly asks.  
  
"They don't have any axes around here, do they?" Ash asks.  
  
"Nope," Reilly replies. "What do we do?"  
  
Ash stretches a crick out of his neck. "You go get that woman out of the lobby and somewhere safe. I'll do what I do best.... improvise."  
  
"No way I'm leaving you alone with this... this..."  
  
"Zombie," Ash says. "And I've fought 'em before. Now go."  
  
Reilly looks at the officer, who, with his arms broken and mangled, cannot lift the weight machine to escape.  
  
"Okay, but I hear police sirens," Reilly says. "I'll get help."  
  
Ash shakes his head no. "Anyone else would just be in the way. Trust me. I've fought enough Deadites to know what I'm doing..."  
  
"Deadites? What the---?" Reilly asks, then looks down at the hate-filled face of the zombie officer. "You know, if that's not freaking you out, you MUST have met them before."  
  
"Get going," Ash says resolutely as he reaches for the pistol the officer had dropped.  
  
Reilly heads out through the doors into the lobby and picks up the injured woman, hearing gunshots in the room behind him, then races out the front doors of the fitness center as we...  
  
FADE OUT.  
  
  
  
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.  
  
ACT TWO  
  
FADE IN  
  
as Ash fires through the framework of the weight machine, hitting the struggling zombie.  
  
"You know, normally I'd be opposed to shooting someone when he's down, but you Deadites never gave ME much of a chance...." Ash explains.  
  
The officer flails and gasps, as if breathing his last, then slumps.  
  
"Oh, come on," Ash says. "You think there's a snowball's chance in Hell I'm going to fall for that?"  
  
The officer remains silent.  
  
Ash fires another shot at him, striking him in the head.  
  
"This is the part where you chant 'dead by dawn' or some bullshit like that," Ash says.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
Ash leans over the framework, still three feet away from the dead man's face.  
  
The man's neck bulges.  
  
His jaw juts open.  
  
And something flies out of his mouth, hitting Ash squarely in the face.  
  
Ash stumbles back, the Hand gripping his face as he tries to pull it off.  
  
He tumbles over a rowing machine, landing flat on his back. The pistol clatters across the floor.  
  
The Hand scurries off his face and grabs the pistol, arching back on its wrist-stump and opening fire.  
  
Ash ducks for cover.  
  
"It can't fuckin' be," Ash mutters to himself. "It can't."  
  
The Hand fires again, shattering a mirror near where Ash has paused.  
  
As the mirror shatters, Ash dives across a treadmill and runs through a swinging door into another room.  
  
The Hand fires a few more shots through the door, then drops the pistol and scurries that direction.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Ash pushes through another set of swinging doors, emerging beside the fitness center's indoor swimming pool.  
  
He looks back over his shoulder. "Okay, think, Ash, think," he says to himself. "The hand came all this way, obviously to kill you, so how do you stop it?"  
  
He grabs a long pole with a scooper on the end, used for cleaning out debris from the water.  
  
When the hand pushes the door open and starts to scramble in, Ash scoops it up with the pole and slams it down into the water.  
  
The Hand flails frantically, trying to swim, as Ash looks around. "Come on, come on," he says to himself. "Something to fry the little bastard..."  
  
He spots a radio and runs over to it, preparing to throw it into the water, when he realizes the cord is not long enough. In frustration, he smashes the radio with his metal hand.  
  
Ash turns around, and realizes that he no longer hears the Hand splashing around.  
  
And he does not see it in the water.  
  
He steps closer, looking up and down the length of the pool. Still nothing.  
  
He takes a few cautious steps closer, so he can peer over the side of the pool.  
  
Nothing.  
  
The water is tranquil and the room is quiet, other than the sound of Ash breathing.  
  
Ash puts one hand on the aluminum mini-ladder that leads down into the water, and leans over to make sure there is no sign of the hand hiding in a filter trap.  
  
As he leans forward, there is a flash of movement from under the steps of the ladder, as the Hand leaps from the water and punches him in the jaw.  
  
He stumbles back, and the Hand lands on the concrete in front of him.  
  
By the time Ash has regained his senses, the Hand springs upwards, slugging him again. And again.  
  
And on its next leap, Ash reaches out and grabs it with his metal hand.  
  
The Hand struggles in the grip of the robotic hand, trying desperately to attack.  
  
"Not a chance," Ash says smugly.  
  
The Hand flings itself upwards, pulling Ash's metal hand with it to slug Ash in the face once more.  
  
This time, Ash is knocked backwards and falls onto some folding chairs.  
  
By the time Ash gets up and comes to his senses again, the Hand has scurried out the far swinging doors.  
  
"Oh, no, you don't!" Ash bellows, chasing after it.  
  
As Ash gets near, the swinging door flies backwards, hitting him in the face.  
  
The Hand lands back on the floor, then scrambles down a hallway, silently giggling to itself.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Grace Takawa, outside the fitness center, clasps a hand to her headset. Nearby, her cameraman idly cleans his lens.  
  
"You've got to be kidding!" she cries. "This is gold!"  
  
"Orders came from on high to cut the broadcast," the voice of her producer explains over the earpiece. "They feel this is sensationalism, not journalism, and it won't go out live."  
  
"Look, if Omstead wants to be a jackass, that's his business," Takawa cries, "but this is HUGE!"  
  
"It didn't come from the station manager," the producer explains patiently. "When I say on high, I mean on HIGH."  
  
Takawa furrows her brow. "What's that supposed to---"  
  
"Corporate HQ, in New York," the producer replies.  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Lajos Szabo's lean fingers set a telephone back down on its hook.  
  
Nearby, Fisk and Oracle stand, watching a monitor screen that shows a closeup of the cameraman as he cleans a speck of dirt from the lens.  
  
"You think that'll keep this silent?" Fisk asks.  
  
"Of course not," Szabo replies. "Fortunately, through various holdings I also have certain influence over the other major news outlets in Detroit. That should buy us enough time for you to come up with a plausible cover story."  
  
Fisk contemplates this. "Um... cop goes nuts, steals hallucinogenic gas from the locker room in attack on fitness center where they made fun of his beerbelly?"  
  
Szabo is silent for a long moment.  
  
"Hallucinogenic, you see, because it... made people think he was a zombie..." Fisk continues nervously.  
  
More silence.  
  
"Call the Detroit office, have them get to work on it," Szabo finally says.  
  
Fisk nods and races out of the room.  
  
Oracle crosses her arms, waiting for a question.  
  
"Is it the Hand?" Szabo asks finally.  
  
"I believe so," Oracle replies, concentrating. Her prophetic eye glows from beneath her sunglasses. "It puppeteered the body of a dead policeman and went in, searching for Ash Williams no doubt."  
  
"Puppeteered?" Szabo asks. "We didn't know it could do that, did we?"  
  
"There are still so many things we don't understand about the Deadites, Lajos. And this Hand seems to be one of the trickiest manifestations of the evil in this dimension to date."  
  
"But no evidence that it has the Kandarian dagger with it?" Szabo asks.  
  
Oracle concentrates again. "No dagger."  
  
"Good," Szabo says coldly. "I would hate for Williams to be stabbed too soon."  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Ash holds his bloody nose as he runs down the hall, chasing after the scurrying Hand.  
  
It pushes against a door that is locked, then races across the hall to another door, which swings open.  
  
Ash follows, mere seconds behind, but when the door shuts behind him he sees no sign of the Hand.  
  
Ash looks around carefully.  
  
He is in the snack bar; chairs are overturned, and half-melted Smoothies still sit in plastic cups on tabletops, from where patrons suddenly ran out of the building when the gunfire began.  
  
But he does not see the Hand.  
  
"Come on, ya little tarantula wannabe," Ash says. "I know you're in here. And you know I'm the good guy, which means I'm the one that's gonna win..."  
  
An applie flies through the air, hitting Ash in the side of the head. He looks over at the bar as the Hand ducks behind a blender.  
  
Ash shakes his head. "You're gonna get it now," he snarls, leaping over the countertop.  
  
He looks around, ready for action, then glances down.  
  
Beside one of his feet, the Hand is down on the ground, shivering.  
  
"Scared?" Ash asks smugly. "You should be---"  
  
The Hand twirls one of his fingers up, revealing a fork that had been underneath it, and jabs it into the toes of Ash's sneaker.  
  
Ash cries out, and the Hand leaps up into a recycle bin.  
  
Ash pulls the fork out of his foot, then heads toward the bin.  
  
An empty glass bottle flies out from the bin, hitting Ash in the forehead. Then another, and another.  
  
Ash stumbles back, then kicks the bin over, sending glass bottles and aluminum cans rolling across the floor.  
  
The Hand races out, aiming to head under the refrigerator.  
  
Ash quickly grabs the blender off the countertop, using it to scoop the Hand up, then slams the lid down on the pitcher.  
  
The Hand flops against the edges frantically as Ash brings the blender back up onto the countertop and, with a satisfied smirk, hits Puree.  
  
In seconds, the Hand is reduced to a mangled slush of rotten flesh and broken bone.  
  
Ash stands back, admiring his handiwork.  
  
The door to the room slams open, and Ash looks up shocked.  
  
SWAT troopers aim their rifles at him. "FREEZE!"  
  
CUT TO:  
  
Outside the fitness center, a few minutes later.  
  
A SWAT trooper holds the blender, inside an evidence bag, at arm's length, scowling distastefully as he carries it from the building.  
  
"Hey, tell them to be careful of that goo in the blender," Ash says. "Incinerate it, or bury it, or exorcise it or something."  
  
"Goo in the blender, got it," the SWAT leader replies, taking notes in a notepad.  
  
Reilly stands beside Ash and the SWAT leader.  
  
"I hope you're not going to arrest us for killing that guy in the cop uniform," Reilly says. "Because if there was EVER a case of self-def---"  
  
"Nobody's getting charged with anything," The SWAT leader interrupts. "The coroner hasn't given an official report yet, but I can tell from my decades in the field that that guy has been dead for at least half a day. And there's a female hand cut off and... er... strapped in with a seatbelt, in the squad car 'he' left in the parking lot."  
  
"So what are you going to put in the report?" Ash asks.  
  
The SWAT leader shrugs. "They're familiar enough with your track record down at headquarters not to be surprised at anything, Williams," he says, then walks off to talk with fellow officers.  
  
Reilly looks over at Ash. "This kind of thing happen to you a lot?"  
  
"Depends what you mean by 'a lot'," Ash replies as we....  
  
FADE OUT.  
  
END CREDITS ROLL. 


End file.
